At this very moment 8:25 p.m. EST, a hot celebrity chef is teaching the Biggest Losers how to grill healthy meals and talent-less Idol wannabes are humiliating themselves in front of four no-nothing judges who hold the keys to fifteen minutes of fame.
I have better things to do than watch reality tv. I really do. Taxes, errands, church stuff. Heck, I even have two whole seasons of The Unit on DVD to watch.
And yet - after a grueling 11 hours at work, I couldn't wait to spend my 20 commute home jabbering with my sister on the phone about last night's drama on The Bachelor (buh-bye Megan!). Okay, we did talk for a few minutes about deep dark family secrets (that's the only thing that can compete with reality tv gossip!), but 80% of the conversation was Bachelor-related.
It seems I find my own reality less interesting than the boob-tube variety . . . a realization that is both amusing and probably worthy of psychotherapy. The simple solution is a shrink that can shrink me to a size that will fit inside the TV!
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